


Hidden Things

by thatstarlitsky



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Blind Character, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 23:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatstarlitsky/pseuds/thatstarlitsky
Summary: Dongmin is tired of people seeing only the superficial; Myungjun is tired of being doubted.





	Hidden Things

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Please watch My ID is Gangnam Beauty if you haven’t already.  
> 2\. Cha Eunwoo is out for my heart please help because I’m MJ biased and wish to remain as such.  
> 3\. Vent Fic TBH because I have a great dislike for the ‘visual’ position in kpop groups and I’m so tired of telling people I like ASTRO and them not knowing who they are until I say “the group Cha Eunwoo is from” and they go “Oh yes! Eunwoo! He’s so handsome!!” like sit down he’s a really good singer wth—(ok I’m done)  
> Long story short, I worry about our Dongmin and hope he knows he’s well appreciated for his talents too (this boy works so hard someone put him to bed so he can rest)  
> I made this MJxEunwoo because they look adorable together and I ship. 
> 
> CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS ALWAYS WELCOME ^^

“It’s incredible, Dongmin,” Moonbin said in the lunch room, unwrapping his triangle kimbap. “It’s barely been three hours since the start of term and I’ve already heard tales of the Ice Prince down in the economics department. I wonder who that could be?”

Dongmin rolled his eyes, stuffing his own kimbap into his mouth.

“Rest assured, your reputation is still intact,” Moonbin flourished a hand as his tone sank deeper into sarcasm, cracking a smile as Dongmin snickered around his kimbap. “Never in my life have I heard such legendary tales spun within hours of the coldest rejection Seoul University has ever seen.”

“Stop,” Dongmin said thickly through his kimbap, his eyes squinting into crescents as he tried not to laugh.

“Did you really turn your music up, or was that an exaggeration?” Moonbin asked, leaning over the table with genuine curiosity.

“An exaggeration,” Dongmin admitted, taking a sip of water. “I just put my headphones back in and ignored her after she asked for my number.”

“Ouch,” Moonbin clutched his chest as though Dongmin had struck him. “That’s cold. A lot of guys were saying she was really pretty too,” Moonbin took a small bite of his kimbap, something he always did when he had intentions to talk during meals.

“And that matters?” Dongmin snorted, taking a much larger bite.

“Certainly not to you,” Moonbin chortled.

Dongmin huffed, turning his eyes out the window. In the glare from the fluorescent lights, Dongmin could just make out his face in the glass – a face many considered to be ‘handsome’. Since middle school, it was his most common compliment – and at first, he’d enjoyed the praise. But now, Dongmin could only see it as a curse. Confessions came all too frequently. It was no surprise that Dongmin had received one now – and on his first day of university, nonetheless.

“I’m meeting with a friend after school today,” Moonbin said, slipping back into normal conversation. “It’s his first day of university too, and we’re going to grab barbecue.”

“That sounds good,” Dongmin’s mouth watered at the thought of barbecue – his kimbap suddenly felt woefully inadequate. It had been awhile since he’d gone out for barbecue with Moonbin. “Is it an old school friend?”

“Yeah,” Moonbin nodded. “He’s a few years our senior, but I’ve known him since elementary school. His name is Myungjun.”

The name was unfamiliar. Dongmin supposed it was one of the friends Moonbin had yet to introduce him to. Where Dongmin was more selective of his friends, Moonbin had many. He was always cool and charismatic enough to draw people to him. Dongmin envied his social abilities – and the genuine friends that came with it. Most people only wanted to be Dongmin’s friend because he was good-looking. It had taken years for Moonbin to properly earn Dongmin’s trust.

“I look forward to meeting him,” Dongmin said with a smile and a nod.

“He’s a really good person. I think you’ll like him.” Moonbin grinned. “We’re meeting at that outdoor barbecue place near the park. It’s Myungjun’s favourite. I’ll text you the address – I’m going to pick him up when my class ends at two and we’ll meet you there around five?”

“Sounds good,” Dongmin took another bite of his kimbap, already excited for the evening that would come.

 

\--

 

Stories of Dongmin’s ice cold rejection of the ‘prettiest woman in Seoul University’ circulated enough that by the end of his school day, nobody dared approach him. Instead, the bitter whispers followed him like insects, each bite itching more than the last. Dongmin was used to resentment (“he must think he’s better than all of us”), envy (“if I looked like him, I’d be a hell of a lot nicer”) and reverence (“He’s so handsome though...”), so the bitter comments didn’t bother him enough to draw a reaction – they only made him wish he were invisible.

Leaving the school behind, Dongmin put the address of the barbecue place into his phone. Getting away from the whispers was a relief, and Dongmin felt himself relax in the sunlight that still lingered after a long day. He texted a quick ‘ _on my way’_ to Moonbin before starting for the nearest subway stop. The train was ruthlessly crowded, but Dongmin pushed through, ignoring the lingering gazes of women and the envying ones of other men.

The outdoor barbecue was thankfully uncrowded aside from a handful of other groups of young people who were probably doing the same thing they were. It wasn’t difficult to spot Moonbin under the canvas tent, talking to another young man with tousled auburn hair who was leaning forwards in an interested manner. Though the tent was quite shaded, Moonbin’s companion was still wearing his sunglasses.

“Dongmin!” Moonbin called, waving him over as he worked his way through the crowd.

“Hello,” Dongmin greeted, pulling out the chair across from Moonbin’s friend – Myungjun, Dongmin could assume – and sat down at the table. Myungjun faced him with an unexpectedly bright smile.

“I was just telling Myungjun about you,” Moonbin said.

“Did you really reject the prettiest girl in school?” Myungjun asked, his grin growing even wider. His round cheeks looked even fuller than before, and Dongmin couldn’t help but think _cute_.

“Well it wasn’t like she had anything interesting going on for her,” Dongmin said with a shrug, earning a laugh from Myungjun and an eye roll from Moonbin. “Did that really have to be the first story you told?”

“Hey, I have to tell it while it’s relevant,” Moonbin grabbed the nearby menu and unfolded it. “Myungjun and I decided on the standard combo. It comes with the side dishes and five different cuts of meat. We can always order more if we’re still hungry. Is that good for you, Dongmin?”

“Sounds great,” Dongmin said immediately, pouring ice water into everyone’s cups. “I’m starving so you’d better protect your plates.”

Myungjun wrapped his hands around his still-empty plate protectively. “I bite,” he threatened.

“You’d better listen,” Moonbin snorted before turning to call for a waitress.

“What are you studying, Dongmin?” Myungjun asked, letting go of his plate.

“Just economics. I’m going into business.” Dongmin shrugged.

“Ah, okay,” Myungjun nodded. “I’m majoring in arts – mainly sculpting and pottery.”

“He’s really good at it,” Moonbin cut in as the waitress stepped away. “Seriously.”

Myungjun’s cheeks flushed and he shook his head. “I’m not, really – I would’ve gotten into school sooner if I was really good.”

“That’s nonsense,” Moonbin patted Myungjun’s shoulder. “They just don’t know talent when they see it.”

Myungjun smiled warmly, though the sad slump of his shoulders betrayed his insecurities. “Thanks,” he said kindly.

“You should show Dongmin,” Moonbin encouraged.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Myungjun shook his head. “I don’t have any pictures anyway.”

“I do,” Moonbin said, digging out his phone. “Can I show him?”

“When did _you_ take pictures?” Myungjun demanded, slapping the hand on his shoulder sharply. “You jerk, you should’ve asked.”

“You would’ve said no,” Moonbin snickered. “So, I snuck a few.”

Myungjun grumbled, a pout making his full lips look even fuller.

“Can I show him the flower pot you made a few weeks ago?” Moonbin asked, swiping through his phone. “The one with the Celtic knot designs?”

“Oh, alright...” Myungjun huffed.

Moonbin grinned and turned his phone around, showing a photo of a round flower pot with etched lines and an intricately detailed design along the top.

“That’s really beautiful,” Dongmin said immediately, earning a blush from Myungjun.

“I feel like I screwed it up,” Myungjun mumbled.

“No way,” Dongmin said immediately. “It looks really good – really.”

“See? I told you,” Moonbin gave Myungjun’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now that it’s not just me and your parents who say so, do you believe me now?”

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders.

“The school rejected you so much because they’re prejudiced assholes – but now that you’re in, you can prove your talent to them.” Moonbin grinned.

“They only let me in because—”

“Because they saw your talent,” Moonbin cut him off. “And now that the food’s here, this discussion is over.”

Myungjun sighed with a weak smile, but nodded his head. Dongmin was glad too – the discussion had started to get a bit too heavy for his tastes.

It didn’t take long for the grill to be filled with sizzling meat, Moonbin skillfully cutting and grilling right before their eyes.

“I didn’t realize you were so proficient at grilling,” Dongmin commented. “We should barbecue more often.”

“When you’re friends with someone like Myungjun, you learn this skill,” Moonbin grinned. “He loves barbecue but he’s no good at this.”

“Jeez,” Myungjun huffed. “I could get good at it if you didn’t steal the tongs every time. You like cooking for me. Admit it.”

“Alright, I _love_ cooking for you,” Moonbin said happily, picking up a few strips of meat with the tongs. “Give me your plate.”

Myungjun pressed a lettuce leaf onto his plate and held it out. Moonbin dropped a few pieces of meat onto the leaf with an affectionate smile.

“Do you want some side dishes too?” Moonbin asked, starting to pass meat onto Dongmin’s plate as well.

“I got it,” Myungjun said easily, reaching out with his chopsticks to poke at the kimchi dish for a moment before he was lifting a piece onto the leaf as well. “I’ll only let you be my mom a little bit.”

Dongmin couldn’t help but laugh, looking over at Moonbin as he pushed side dishes closer to Myungjun with a cheerful introduction to each one. Myungjun rolled his eyes and told Moonbin off for being such a mom, pointing his chopsticks at him. It was an incredibly cute display that made Dongmin almost jealous. He wondered if he was just as precious to Moonbin as Myungjun was, or if his elementary school friend had a very special place in his heart.

“Dongmin, _save me_ ,” Myungjun whined when Moonbin began making a wrap for him. “Tell him I don’t need a second mom!”

“Moonbin, it’s fine,” Dongmin cut in, deciding to stand up for Myungjun. “He can make his own wraps.”

“Yes, but this one is made _special_ by _me_ ,” Moonbin insisted. “As a present for working so hard and getting into school. You have to eat it, okay Myungjun?”

“Fine, give it to me,” Myungjun held out his hand.

“Nope, open your mouth,” Moonbin slapped the hand away with a grin.

Myungjun groaned but did as he was told, leaning forward and opening his mouth so Moonbin could push the wrap into his mouth. He chewed it with a faint pink tint to his cheeks, but he looked happy all the same.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” Moonbin said, rising to his feet. “Play nice, kids!”

“I’m older than you!” Myungjun shouted after him, his lips pursing in a frown.

“But you’re still a kid,” Moonbin sang before he slipped between the tables and out of earshot.

“He’s such a pain,” Myungjun huffed, turning back towards Dongmin. “How long have you known him for?”

“A few years,” Dongmin admitted. “We only became close in high school.”

“Ah, so you probably haven’t experienced Mother Moonbin yet have you?” Myungjun questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Only once when I was sick last year,” Dongmin shrugged. “I told him not to help or he’d get sick, but he did it anyway, and sure enough...”

Myungjun laughed. “He’s a really good friend. I hope we can be friends too,” he smiled shyly, shrugging his shoulders.

Dongmin’s stomach twisted. Though he didn’t mind Myungjun’s company, that shred of mistrust still lingered where he couldn’t shake it. As genuine as the other man seemed, Dongmin had fallen for it before.

“Maybe we can,” Dongmin said carefully, and though his answer didn’t give a definite ‘yes’, Myungjun’s smile brightened.

“I am curious though,” Myungjun said, turning his attention back towards the kimchi. He tapped his chopsticks on the side of the dish, hitting the corner before finding one of the thicker pieces and pulling it onto his plate. “Why did you reject that girl? And why did it spread around the school?”

“Well, uh,” Dongmin scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, chewing his lip. “I didn’t really know her, so I didn’t want to give her my number. It’s just something I don’t really do.”

“Ah,” Myungjun hummed, wrapping up the kimchi and meat in a lettuce leaf. “I understand.” He tucked the edges of the leaf with surprising delicacy. It took a moment for Dongmin realize he was fidgeting. “You said...she didn’t really have anything interesting going on for her?”

Dongmin didn’t know what he was talking about for a moment. He could barely remember word for word what he’d said ten minutes ago, and yet, those words seemed to have stuck in Myungjun’s mind from nearly an hour ago.

“What I really mean is she doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her,” Dongmin shrugged. “I’m not interested in people like that.”

Myungjun hummed again, this time pressing the wrap into his mouth and chewing it slowly. Dongmin distracted himself with the grill, deciding to drop some more meat into place for when Moonbin returned.

“Maybe she wanted to get to know you though,” Myungjun said, wiping his fingers off on his napkin.

“It’s complicated,” Dongmin said, relief filling him when he finally spotted Moonbin coming back. Myungjun was picking at his defenses in a less than comfortable manner.

“Oh,” Myungjun said, his lips suddenly peeling into a grin. “I get it. You’re g—”

“Did you two play nice?” Moonbin asked when he was finally in earshot, cutting off Myungjun’s sentence.

“Oh, yes,” Myungjun said cheerfully, his smile a bit too wide. “I was just asking him his side of the rejection story.”

Moonbin chortled, sitting back down in his chair and pulling himself close to the table. “I’m sure it was the usual ‘oh wow, you’re so—’ Dongmin, _what are you doing_ ,” Moonbin snatched the tongs and scissors from him, attempting to fix the critical error that had resulted in a very shredded morsel of meat. “This piece is yours. Neither I nor Myungjun are going to eat your mess.”

Myungjun was laughing behind his hand – a vivacious sound that was turning heads nearby, smiles firmly placed on their features. Dongmin felt his own heart warm.

“From now on, you leave the grill to me. Don’t touch it,” Moonbin tapped the tongs on the side of the grill for emphasis. “Understood?”

“Then no more bathroom breaks for you, Grill Master Moonbin,” Dongmin jabbed at him with his chopsticks. “We’re all hungry here and you made us wait.”

“Well excuse me for being human,” Moonbin huffed dramatically before setting the tongs and scissors down, letting the beautifully cut meat sizzle on the grill. “Maybe going hungry will teach you both some manners.”

“That’s not fair to me!” Myungjun protested, raising a single chopstick. “Dongmin messed up the meat being impatient, right?”

“Hey,” Dongmin jabbed his own chopstick in Myungjun’s direction. “Those are fighting words and I’ll steal your meat for it.”

“Try it,” Myungjun’s chopstick shifted so it was pointing towards Dongmin. They clacked together like a pair of swords, making Myungjun drop his in surprise. It landed on top of the grill with a clatter and Moonbin scrambled with a high-pitched shout to pick it out of the food. Dongmin couldn’t help but laugh along with Myungjun who had thrown his head back in mirth. The rejection story remained forgotten for the rest of the evening, but Dongmin didn’t miss the way Myungjun’s head often turned towards him, his plush lips curling into a curious smile. Dongmin’s heart twisted in his chest when he caught sight of each one. Were Myungjun’s smiles genuine, or a result of him falling for Dongmin’s looks just as everyone else did? Instinct told him he already knew the answer.

 

\--

 

“Myungjun really wants to know when we can all hang out again,” Moonbin said, his textbooks stretched across the lunch table. He was nose deep in one of them, holding it open with one hand while he ate his meal with the other.

“I don’t know,” Dongmin said slowly, poking at his rice.

“Let’s try to make it soon,” Moonbin encouraged, looking up from the book with a bright grin. “It’s not every day I see him this excited to meet someone again.”

 _It’s because I’m ‘good looking’,_ Dongmin thought numbly. That was the only reason Myungjun was excited. It was an unfair judgement, Dongmin knew this, but he couldn’t help but make it.

“And you deserve a new friend too,” Moonbin ploughed on, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not always free to hang out, and Myungjun needs the friends too.”

“It’s just...it’s been awhile,” Dongmin said, setting down his spoon and covering his rice again. “You know how it is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Moonbin waved his hand in the air. “I know you’re picky about your friends, but Myungjun is honestly one of the nicest and most loyal people you’ll ever know. Seriously, give him a chance, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Dongmin’s words didn’t feel like a promise to him, but Moonbin smiled all the same.

“Then you can do me a favour,” Moonbin reached into his backpack and pulled out a lunchbox. “Myungjun left his lunch at home today and I was going to drop it off for him at 1 o’clock for his mom, but my chemistry professor hinted at a surprise test at the end of class yesterday and gave us a day to review for it – and I really want to do well. You don’t have any more classes until six and his campus is just a few blocks away – please take it to him for me?”

“Wouldn’t it be—um—awkward...?” Dongmin asked, eyeing the lunchbox like it was a ticking time bomb. How could he possibly bring someone he barely knew their lunch?

“Maybe to you,” Moonbin shrugged. “But I think Myungjun would be happy to see you again. Please?”

Dongmin chewed his lip, that nervous, twisting feeling slipping back into his gut.

“Even if you don’t want to see Myungjun again, I really need to do well in this class...” Moonbin’s shoulders slumped a little, making him look exactly like a kicked puppy. “So, if not for him, then do it for me?”

“Alright, fine,” Dongmin caved, falling for the pitiful expression he knew so well but hadn’t become immune to. “I’ll take it to him.”

Moonbin grinned, pushing the lunch towards Dongmin. “You’re the best. I’ll text him that you’re coming instead of me.”

“Sure,” Dongmin wrapped his hands around the lunch, observing the neat container for a moment before he was packing up what was left of his lunch. It was already half past twelve, so he figured he might as well make his way over now. Moonbin’s thumbs were rapidly sending a text, his eyes bright. Dongmin let himself laugh a little. Moonbin was a good friend. If he liked Myungjun, Dongmin didn’t see why he shouldn’t try to be friends too.

As Moonbin left for the library, Dongmin slipped out the front doors of the school, following the directions that had been messily scribbled on a cafeteria napkin. Just as promised, the campus wasn’t far. Dongmin squinted against the sunlight, trying to spot Myungjun from a distance. Moonbin had said Myungjun would meet him on the front steps, but there didn’t seem to be anyone waiting there yet. Dongmin wondered if he would be forced to stand around awkwardly for Myungjun to show up. He didn’t like that thought. He was already turning heads at the unfamiliar campus, and a few girls whispered behind their hands, their eyes locked on him as they spoke unknown words. Dongmin once again felt the uncomfortable urge to crawl out of his own skin.

A small trickle of students emerged from the front doors and started down the steps. Dongmin quickly ran his eyes over them, trying to spot Myungjun among them. He pursed his lips when each face was unfamiliar and turned his eyes back up to the top of the stairs as he started to climb. There was someone waiting there now, talking into his phone. Dongmin realized after a second he was using the voice features – the red and white cane clutched in his other hand gave away his disability.

And then Dongmin recognized the tousled mop of auburn hair.

“M...Myungjun...?” Dongmin called hesitantly, the student’s head turning. His lips peeled into the dazzling smile that had grown familiar, even over one meal.

“Dongmin!” Myungjun waved in his general direction, getting it almost exactly right. Disbelief flooded through him. It had only been a few days since the barbecue, but Dongmin had seen no sign of Myungjun’s blindness. He hadn’t carried a cane and seemed to find the food on the table just fine. He faintly recalled the way Myungjun had tapped on the side of the kimchi dish before picking up a leaf – something Dongmin hadn’t thought anything of at the time. The sunglasses perhaps might’ve given it away if they hadn’t been eating at an outdoor barbecue.

“I’m sorry, I...didn’t realize it was you,” Dongmin said, his voice shaking slightly despite his efforts to keep his shock down.

“Why not?” Myungjun asked, pushing his phone into his pocket. “Am I that unrecognizable?”

“No, I just...” Dongmin swallowed, finally realizing he needed to admit the truth before this became awkward. “I just didn’t know you were blind.”

“Moonbin didn’t tell you?” Myungjun tilted his head to the side before letting out a laugh. “Wow, this must be a shock. You know, I did wonder a little why you didn’t ask anything about it when we were eating barbecue – you didn’t act overly nice either, so I thought you were okay with it.”

“I had no idea,” Dongmin admitted.

“Does that mean _now_ you’re going to play twenty questions with me?” Myungjun’s smile was a little sad now, yet there was a patience in his tone.

“I’m going to assume people ask a lot of questions,” Dongmin guessed, earning a little shrug from Myungjun.

“Yes,” Myungjun admitted. “And no. It’s what they don’t ask that bothers me, really.”

“Ah,” Dongmin didn’t know what he meant. Finding out that Myungjun was blind had been a shock, but he was still the same person Dongmin had met at the barbecue – only he just happened to be carrying a cane this time.

“Oh, right,” Dongmin suddenly remembered Myungjun’s lunch and dug it from his backpack. “Your lunch.”

“Yes, I need that,” Myungjun laughed, holding out his hand.

Dongmin handed it over, making sure the box pressed securely into the palm of his hand before letting go.

“You can ask, you know,” Myungjun said, tucking the lunchbox close to his body.

“Ask what...?” Dongmin couldn’t help but watch the way Myungjun adjusted his grip on the cane.

“What everyone asks,” Myungjun shrugged. “What’s it like being blind?”

“Well, I assume it’s different,” Dongmin stated. “It’s not like the world makes it easy for you.”

Myungjun laughed and shook his head. “Do you want to eat lunch with me? Moonbin said you had some free time.”

Dongmin didn’t see how he could possibly say ‘no’ if Moonbin had already told him he was free. He had no excuses – and that had probably been Moonbin’s intention.

“Sure,” Dongmin replied. He found he didn’t regret it when he saw how brightly Myungjun smiled in response. The twisting feeling in his heart had lessened to a faint hum. Perhaps it was selfish to think it, but knowing that Myungjun couldn’t judge him for his looks eased his fears. Myungjun’s friendliness at the barbecue restaurant had been genuine after all. He felt a little warm bubble float in his chest.

Dongmin held the door open as Myungjun tapped his way back into the building. He followed beside him, unsure if he should ask to hold Myungjun’s arm or not. Instead, Dongmin watched with fascination as Myungjun made his way through the school, finding hallways unexpectedly easily and turning down them.

“Have you memorized where to go?” Dongmin asked, unable to hold in his curiosity anymore.

“Sort of,” Myungjun admitted with a shrug. “It’s only been a week, so I don’t really know where everything in the school is – I need to ask a teacher for directions sometimes...but the places I do know, like the library and the cafeteria, I just follow the sounds.”

“Sounds...?” Dongmin tried to listen, but found that the echoes in the hallways just sounded like annoying, garbled noise.

“It’s hard to explain,” Myungjun laughed lightly, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess it’s like seeing with my ears.”

“That’s...really amazing,” Dongmin admitted, following Myungjun into the cafeteria where they quickly found seats.

“People think it’s crazy,” Myungjun said. “And they don’t believe me, either.” He set his lunchbox in front of him and pulled the lid off. The food was packed into neat compartments, and a pair of chopsticks were tucked near the front. Myungjun felt for them for a moment before he was plucking them out.

“How can they not believe you?” Dongmin asked, deciding to pull out the remnants of his own lunch so he didn’t look too out of place.

“People don’t understand,” Myungjun shrugged. “They can’t imagine not being able to see, so they don’t think there’s any other way to do it.”

Dongmin nodded slowly, falling silent as he ate slowly. He couldn’t help but quietly watch Myungjun eat, noting the way he poked at his food in search of it before picking it up. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it at the barbecue.

“You hide it really well,” Dongmin finally said, making Myungjun lift his head. “Your blindness, I mean.”

“Ah,” Myungjun grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose I do if you didn’t notice after spending several hours with me at a barbecue.”

“Maybe it should’ve been obvious,” Dongmin stared at his food, letting out a soft laugh. “But I didn’t notice how you felt for your food before taking it, and I just thought you were wearing sunglasses because the restaurant was outdoors. You looked completely normal.”

“Years of practice, I suppose,” Myungjun laughed softly. “If I can walk without my cane, nobody ever notices. That’s why it’s nice to have friends like Moonbin. He leads me when we’re out together so I don’t have to use my cane.”

“Is it hard?” Dongmin asked. “Not being blind, but...other people.”

“Yeah,” Myungjun admitted, focusing on his food. “Especially here in an arts school.”

“You made that pot without ever seeing it,” Dongmin suddenly thought the flowerpot Moonbin had showed him was even more beautiful than it was before.

“I did it by touch,” Myungjun said with a shrug. “But every arts school I applied to for years thought I had stolen someone else’s work, or lied about making it myself. I managed to get in here because I came to my interview without my cane. I almost didn’t find the chair – or the door on the way out.”

Dongmin almost laughed at the thought of Myungjun wandering blindly into an interview and attempting to pass for a sighted person, but the thought of him doing that just to earn the respect of the school crushed any amusing image of him nearly running into the door jam.

“I can’t tell you what the whispers were like when I showed up to my first class,” Myungjun went on, his voice falling quiet now. “They were almost all the same, you know? ‘How can a blind man do art?’ They thought they were being quiet, but they really weren’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dongmin suddenly felt selfish for wishing people would stop talking about him in class. Being called ‘handsome’ was easier to handle than condescending remarks about a disability.

“Today though,” Myungjun lifted himself up, squaring his shoulders. “I can show them today. We’re sculpting right after lunch, so I can show them that I can do it too.”

“You can do it,” Dongmin agreed with a nod. “Definitely.”

Myungjun smiled, though it dropped after a moment as he turned back to his meal. He ate quickly, and Dongmin noticed the way his hand trembled slightly where it gripped his lunch box.

Without thinking about it too long, Dongmin reached over and laid a hand over Myungjun’s fingers. He froze in response, his head turned towards Dongmin. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but Dongmin could just imagine the surprised, confused, and possibly even patronizing gaze.

“You can do it,” Dongmin repeated. “Those designs on your flowerpot? Considering you couldn’t see them as you etched them, they look perfect. Moonbin didn’t show me anything else, but if I have to judge on that alone, I know you can do it.”

Myungjun smiled again, though his lip trembled. “Can you...walk with me to the classroom?”

“Of course,” Dongmin promised, removing his hand from Myungjun’s.

As the clock ticked towards Myungjun’s next class, Dongmin did his best to fill any nervous silences with idle chatter. He talked about his own classes and that one teacher he had a great dislike for. Myungjun laughed at a few of his stories, his nervousness forgotten until his watch beeped the time a little more elaborately than Dongmin was used to.

“I guess it’s one thirty...we should get going,” Myungjun set his chopsticks back into his lunch box and closed the lid.

“Your watch has a different beep for each time?” Dongmin asked, tucking away his own containers.

“Yeah. It’s Morse code. It has an alarm for every half hour.” Myungjun moved to zip up his bag and after a moment of hesitation, he collapsed his cane and stuffed it into his bag beside his books. Dongmin wondered if Myungjun intended on walking blindly to his next class until he extended his arm towards him. Smiling, Dongmin looped his arm around Myungjun’s and stood beside him.

“Which classroom is it?” Dongmin asked as they stepped out of the cafeteria side by side.

“204,” Myungjun responded. “There are stairs that way,” Myungjun pointed to their left and tugged Dongmin’s arm.

“Do you really need me to show you the way?” Dongmin asked, earning him a sharp slap on the shoulder.

“No,” Myungjun replied. “It’s just nice to walk with someone.”

Dongmin smiled, keeping up with Myungjun’s steady pace. They moved up the stairs a little slower, giving Myungjun time to find his footing on each step. Dongmin didn’t rush him, only watching with a kind of muted awe at how easy it seemed to be for Myungjun to feel his way through the world around him. Several times, students moved up and down the stairs, some of them a little too fast. Dongmin couldn’t help but shift protectively beside Myungjun, just in case they got too close. Dongmin had little doubt Myungjun knew they were there with how much noise they were making, but the last thing he wanted was to watch him fall from someone’s negligence.

The classroom was still mostly empty when they arrived, with the exception of two students who were reviewing their notes and the professor who was pressing balls of wrapped clay onto trays. She looked up when Myungjun and Dongmin entered and immediately rose to her feet.

“Oh, are you the model?” The Professor asked, approaching them with quick footsteps. Her eyes were bright as they darted over Dongmin’s face and down his body. His skin crawled. Myungjun’s hand gripped his arm a little tighter than before.

“No,” Dongmin responded, not missing the disappointed curl of the professor’s lips. “I’m just walking with Myungjun.”

“He’s a friend of mine, Professor Lee,” Myungjun said with a nod. “Are we working with a model today...?”

“Yes, I meant to discuss this with you sooner,” Professor Lee said, folding her arms over her chest. “Since today’s assignment involves looking at a model and sculpting it from clay, I will exempt you from the class. Instead, I would like to see an essay on sculpting tools and the use for each one by the next class.”

Myungjun’s hands were shaking. Dongmin felt numb with disbelief.

“You won’t even let him _try_?” Dongmin asked, ignoring the grip on his arm.

“Try...?” Professor Lee turned towards him now, a frown on her face. “If he can’t see the model, he can’t complete the assignment.”

Myungjun’s shoulders slumped. As angry as Dongmin was about how unfair the situation was, he didn’t see any way around the circumstances. Professor Lee was right. Myungjun was blind – and copying a model would be impossible if he couldn’t see it.

“Professor...” Myungjun spoke up quietly. “I...If the model is okay with it, I can see through touch and copy it that way.”

“That’s—I cannot permit that,” Professor Lee shook her head.

“Why not?” Dongmin demanded. “He wants to do the assignment and he knows how he can do it. Why won’t you let him?”

“Dongmin, stop,” Myungjun sighed, that defeated slump back in his shoulders. “It’s fine. I’ll just do the next one.”

“No, it’s not,” Dongmin’s hands curled into fists. “This is prejudiced and disrespectful. There’s many ways Myungjun can do this assignment – you’re just too close minded to see it yourself.”

Professor Lee’s cheeks flushed. “You—”

“Sorry, uh...is this Professor Lee Minji’s class...?”

Dongmin turned to look over his shoulder at the new arrival. He was short, but handsome in a masculine way, with round cheeks that spoke of constant smiles. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his eyes darting between Myungjun, Dongmin, and Professor Lee. He must’ve heard their argument as he arrived.

“Yes, and who are you?” Professor Lee asked, composing herself enough to appear polite, but there was a fire in her eyes that said she wasn’t done with their discussion yet.

“I’m Park Jinwoo, your model for today,” he bowed politely and smiled, though the expression looked a little strained.

“Yes, Jinwoo,” Professor Lee gestured to a spot in front of the white board where the floor was slightly raised, and a stool stood in wait. Dongmin noted that she didn’t give Jinwoo a once over – she barely spared him a glance. “Please wait over there.”

Jinwoo bowed again, glancing at Myungjun and Dongmin as he moved towards the dais. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on Myungjun. He noticed the flick of his eyes going from the sunglasses down to the arm that was still holding Dongmin’s.

“I advise you both to leave now before I call for campus security,” Professor Lee said in an undertone. Jinwoo was still listening, one of his ears turned towards their conversation as he slowly stepped onto the dais.

“Professor,” Dongmin tried to be patient, but he was frustrated enough to beg. “ _Please_ let him try.”

“It’s fine,” Myungjun tugged on his arm. “Don’t get in trouble because of me. I’ll just go to the library and do the essay.”

Dongmin wondered if it was too soon to feel so angry for someone he’d only just met. Yet, the defeated sigh in Myungjun’s voice contributed to a burning rage that was slowly building in his chest. The smile he’d gotten to know was gone now, and Dongmin found himself fearing the sight of tears dripping down those round cheeks. Myungjun had looked forward to this and was desperate to prove himself – but the teacher who should’ve been encouraging him had crushed his hopes instead.

“Are you a blind artist?” Jinwoo spoke up from the dais, his mouth open with awe.

Myungjun looked up and nodded once, though from the way Professor Lee’s lips pursed, Dongmin assumed she didn’t agree.

“That’s so cool,” Jinwoo breathed, his grin almost as blinding as Myungjun’s. “Are you good?”

“He’s _very_ good,” Dongmin said before Myungjun could answer himself. “But this teacher won’t give him the chance to prove it.”

“Oh,” Jinwoo glanced at the professor as her cheeks flushed in humiliation. “Well, I mean...what can I do to help you do the assignment?”

“Well, I...” Myungjun stammered, starting to regain some of his composure. “I usually sculpt by touch, but...I’ll understand if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“No, no,” Jinwoo shook his head with a smile. “That’s fine with me.”

“And I would also like Dongmin to be my eyes,” Myungjun squeezed his arm again.

Professor Lee’s jaw worked, but there were enough students in the classroom now that she couldn’t outright reject Myungjun’s proposals without making herself look worse. Already Dongmin could see frowns on a handful of the student’s faces, and he didn’t think they were in response to Myungjun’s special requests.

“Fine,” Professor Lee finally said. “But I will be marking yours the same as everyone else’s.”

Dongmin felt Myungjun swell beside him, his hands squeezing his arm even tighter than before. Dongmin couldn’t help but smile, looking up at Jinwoo and nodding gratefully as the Professor swept back to her desk.

“I sit up front here,” Myungjun said, already pulling Dongmin over towards a table. There was a spring in his step, and Dongmin was glad for it.

As the rest of the class filed in, Dongmin watched as Myungjun lovingly laid out his tools, each one in a very specific order. The Professor dropped the boards with the wrapped clay in front of each student, and Dongmin didn’t miss the disbelieving stare she cast Myungjun when she placed the clay in front of him. Jinwoo had already taken his seat on the stool and his shirt was off. A few girls were giggling behind their hands nearby, and for once, Dongmin was glad the attention wasn’t on him. Jinwoo had a very well-toned body.

At exactly two o’clock, Myungjun’s watched beeped out the hour and Professor Lee shut the door.

“As described in our last lecture,” she said, her voice void of any of the strain it held during their argument barely ten minutes before, “you will be sculpting the human form. You have an hour and thirty minutes to create the most accurate sculpture out of clay as you can using the tools we have been studying. You may approach the model for a closer look at any point during the class. You may begin.”

Almost immediately, Myungjun began to unwrap the clay. Dongmin figured he would ask when he was ready to go up for a look, and stayed silent as he began to work.

“How tall is he...?” Myungjun finally asked, his fingers slowly moulding the shapes.

“About as tall as you – just under six feet...?” Dongmin responded in a whisper. “But more muscular.”

“So flattering,” Myungjun snickered, but continued to work, shaping out a very rough human model with a portion of the clay.

“He’s sitting on a stool too,” Dongmin added.

Myungjun nodded, setting an extra ball aside. His fingers shaped and moulded the clay, and Dongmin could only watch with awe as he added small pieces here and there to achieve better proportions. Even if Myungjun couldn’t see what a human body looked like, he was familiar with the shape of one.

“I will go up now,” Myungjun said, starting to get to his feet. Dongmin rose with him, taking the offered arm when Myungjun held it out. A few other students were already milling around the dais, some of them with lumps of clay in their hands. Jinwoo remained statue still as Myungjun reached out to feel his way over Jinwoo’s body, learning the pose he was sculpting. He didn’t linger long enough for it to become awkward, but when Myungjun stepped off the dais, Dongmin could see his cheeks flushed faintly pink.

And then Myungjun began to work once more, this time with more accuracy than he had before. Dongmin didn’t speak, not wanting to break his concentration. His watch beeped every half hour, signalling the passage of time, but Myungjun never once hesitated longer than a few seconds. His fingers guided his tools, and the clay shifted beneath his hands until he was delicately working the fine details into place. Even if Dongmin was spoken to, he didn’t think he could say a word. He could only stare in awe at the near flawless replica of Jinwoo that sat on a roughly carved stool on Myungjun’s board. There were a few inaccuracies, such as the shape of Jinwoo’s eyes, nose, and lips, but everything from the pose to the muscles had been etched to near perfection. Myungjun was finishing off with his hair, rolling clay into thin strands to press against the model’s scalp.

Finally, an alarm rang through the classroom, and Myungjun lowered his tools at the teacher’s command. He hadn’t quite finished off the stool, but Dongmin didn’t think it would matter half as much as the sculpture did. Jinwoo was stretching, looking relieved now that he didn’t have to pose any longer. A few students were sighing and whining about something they struggled with. Myungjun was cryptlike in his silence.

The teacher began to weave between the desks, offering criticism and advice as she took in their work. Myungjun’s hands were shaking as she slowly came closer to their table.

“And, Myungjun...” Professor Lee paused in front of the table and the trembling rose to Myungjun’s shoulders. Dongmin watched her eyes run over the sculpture, her brow creasing as she tried to find her words.

“You didn’t touch this clay...?” She asked finally turning her eyes onto Dongmin.

“No, Professor,” Dongmin responded. “It was all him.”

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Myungjun rasped, lifting his slightly clay stained hands and covering his face.

Professor Lee’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her eyes going from the sculpture to Myungjun who looked on the verge of tears. A few students had stepped over to peek and were whispering behind their hands.

“I owe you an apology,” Professor Lee finally said. “I have no excuses.”

The handful of students who had overheard the initial argument tittered in response, but Myungjun remained silent.

“Though the shoulders are a little broad and the expression is inaccurate, everything else is excellently worked. You used all of the correct tools, and your finish is very smooth,” she scribbled a few notes down onto a paper on her clipboard before finally circling something. “While I don’t expect you to forgive me, please attend every class from now on. And, if you haven’t heard, there is a trip next month to the art museum and you’re welcome to come along.” She tore the page off her clipboard and laid it face down on the desk before moving onto the next student.

“What is it?” Myungjun asked in an undertone, his voice shaking as he lowered his hands just enough to allow him to speak. “What did she put down?”

Dongmin reached for the paper and picked it up, his heart skipping as he read the number at the top of the page. “It’s your mark.”

“Oh god, what is it?”

“Ninety-two out of one hundred.”

Myungjun’s hands pressed back against his face as he let out a sob.

 

\--

 

Myungjun’s sculpting assignment sent shockwaves through the class and reverberated through the school. Where there was once scepticism, there was now awe, and Dongmin could see it in the faces of every student he passed as he walked Myungjun towards his next class.

“It couldn’t have been that good,” Myungjun said quietly as they passed another group of people who pointed shamelessly towards them as they spoke.

“Trust me,” Dongmin replied. “It was. That’s why everyone is so surprised.”

“They’re probably just surprised that a blind person managed to make something decent,” Myungjun mumbled.

“No, Myungjun,” Dongmin shook his head. “Even if you could see, your sculpture would’ve been amazing. The fact that you did so well completely blind is what’s making people talk.”

Myungjun sniffed but nodded his head. “I should thank you too.”

“You don’t need to,” Dongmin shook his head.

“Yes, I do,” Myungjun took a breath and wiped his cheek with the heel of his hand. A few tears were still managing to leak from beneath his sunglasses. “If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve given up and just gone to do the tool essay the teacher told me to. But you stood up for me, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“It’s what any decent person should do. You don’t need to thank me for it,” Dongmin smiled softly.

“No, I do,” Myungjun took off his sunglasses, his eyes closed as he dried his cheeks with his sleeve. Despite how sad his distress was, Dongmin couldn’t help but admire Myungjun’s features before he put the glasses back on. “I’m so scared of failing that I just let people doubt me, and I always doubt myself. I’m a blind arts student – people expect me to do poorly, so I’m always afraid. If I mess up, it’s just going to prove that I don’t belong here.”

“But what you did today proves that you do,” Dongmin insisted. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Slowly, Myungjun nodded his head. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Dongmin nodded, guiding him towards the door of his next class. “Your class is here. I should be getting back to my own campus now.”

“Yeah,” Myungjun dug in his bag for his cane again, nodding his head. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long. You just came to bring me lunch...”

“It was worth it,” Dongmin promised with a smile. “If you ever need eyes for another class, I’ll be there, okay?”

Myungjun sniffled and nodded his head, his cheeks filling out with that familiar smile. “Thank you...you were good eyes.”

“I sure hope so,” Dongmin laughed, patting Myungjun’s arm lightly before letting go. “I’ll see you next time.”

“Let’s go for barbecue again soon!” Myungjun said immediately, waving goodbye.

“Sounds good,” Dongmin waved in return, even if Myungjun couldn’t see, before turning and heading back down the hallway. Now there was no doubt in Dongmin’s mind.

Myungjun was his friend.

 

\--

 

Midterms were fast approaching, and Dongmin could feel his anxiety rising. He spent most of his free time in the library copying his notes, trying to ignore the whispers that sounded like screaming in the quiet rooms. He usually wasn’t lucky enough to get one of the study rooms before someone else did and hiding at a back desk had proved entirely useless when people started finding him there. So Dongmin opted to study in plain sight instead, letting the librarian take down the whispers since she could hear them from her front desk. She was never fast enough to block out the longing sighs from girls or the envying mumbles of boys as they wished they could gather attention from the opposite gender too.

Next to him, his phone lit up, displaying a text message from Moonbin.

_Myungjun invited us over for dinner and studying. We’ll pick you up out front._

He felt his heart leap as he unlocked his phone, sending a quick ‘I’m coming’ before he was stuffing his books haphazardly into his bag. He’d likely get a lot less work done studying with his friends, but he could finally breathe once he’d left the whispers behind.

Moonbin and Myungjun were waiting for him on the front steps, their own bags dangling off their backs.

“Hey,” Dongmin greeted when he was close enough, unable to help himself from watching the smile light up Myungjun’s face.

“I figured you might need rescuing from the library,” Moonbin said with a laugh.

“You weren’t wrong,” Dongmin responded, shrugging his shoulders. “People aren’t very good at shutting up.”

Myungjun laughed behind his hand. “Even in a place you have to be quiet?”

“Trust me; people talk anyway,” Dongmin sighed. “Let’s get going?”

Myungjun grinned and offered his other arm for Dongmin to take. Moonbin held onto the other one as they started down the stairs. Dongmin knew they must look a little silly – like characters from _The Wizard of Oz_ – but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The feeling of Myungjun’s arm looped through his made him feel happier than it probably should’ve. He was trusted, and Myungjun’s arm was warm against his.

“I’m glad you’re coming along, because Myungjun’s assignment is bordering on unfair,” Moonbin said as they stepped onto the subway.

“What do you mean?” Dongmin asked, holding onto the railing while Myungjun sat beside Moonbin.

“It’s not that bad,” Myungjun protested. “Professor Jung said he would pass me as long as he saw I was making an effort, so as long as I hand something in, I’ll be fine.”

“What’s the assignment?” Dongmin asked.

“I have to write an essay about colours,” Myungjun replied as Moonbin opened his mouth. “But like I said, as long as I make an effort, Professor Jung will pass me.”

“It’s still unfair though,” Moonbin chortled.

“It’s arts school,” Myungjun shrugged. “I asked if I could do texture instead, but Professor Jung said that was our next assignment, so he told me I could ask friends and family for help.”

“I knew I might someday have to explain colours to you,” Moonbin laughed lightly. “I just didn’t think it would ever be for a school assignment.”

Myungjun shrugged, tapping his toes as he waited for their subway stop. Dongmin watched him quietly, trying to imagine a world without colour. This assignment really would be difficult, he realized. He wondered if it was possible to describe colour without ever seeing it. Dongmin fell silent, ignoring the cheerful banter between Myungjun and Moonbin as he contemplated the question.

Myungjun’s house was in an apartment building just a handful of subway stops from the campus. Dongmin held onto his arm, though Myungjun was guiding most of the trip with Moonbin being his eyes. It was incredible how easy it was for Myungjun to feel for the keyhole and unlock the front door. It was even more incredible to see Myungjun let go of their arms and feel his way into the apartment, calling out to his mother in the kitchen. He barely needed his cane here, the environment familiar enough that he knew it from memory.

“You two get set up in the room,” Moonbin gestured to one of the doors off the main room. “I’m going to grab us drinks.”

Dongmin nodded and followed Myungjun, who found his room by feeling his way along the wall. The room was spacious, with many shelves carrying different sculptures that ranged in size. A few unfinished ones sat on the desk, lopsided and tired.

Myungjun’s feet slid slowly across the carpet until his toes brushed against the chair of his desk. He pulled it out and sat down, starting to clean up the mess on his desk. Finally, he removed his sunglasses and set them down near his lamp. Dongmin swallowed, his eyes darting over Myungjun’s features.

 _I shouldn’t do this,_ Dongmin thought to himself, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. This is what people did to him, he reminded himself. This kind of unabashed staring made Dongmin uncomfortable, and here he was, staring at one of his friends like he was seeing the moon for the first time. But he couldn’t help it.

Myungjun was beautiful. Dongmin knew his soft cheeks well, and the plush, bow shape of his lips. He had never thought Myungjun’s eyes would have such a delicate almond shape, or that the puffiness just below them would make him look even cuter than he already did. It was difficult to remember that they were eyes that couldn’t see, but the unfocused movements of them below his half-closed eyelid spoke of the darkness they saw.

“You’re really quiet,” Myungjun finally said, his head tilting to the side slightly.

“Sorry, I was just...” Dongmin cut himself off, crouching down to pull things from his bag as his cheeks burned furiously. For once, he was glad Myungjun couldn’t see him blushing.

“Just...?” Myungjun had turned to face him, that smile back on his face. Dongmin felt his heart skip several beats as his stomach flipped over in his stomach. He had to look away, hoping the hitch in his breath had gone unnoticed.

“Admiring the...artwork,” Dongmin could’ve slapped himself for the words, because Myungjun certainly was a work of art. The room was filled with art too.

“Ah,” Myungjun laughed softly, nodding his head. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

 _You have no idea,_ Dongmin thought numbly, pressing his fingers to his cheeks. He hoped the blush would fade quickly. He wasn’t so lucky, as Moonbin chose that moment to step into the room carrying a tray laden with a tea pot and three cups. A woman followed behind him carrying a folding table.

“I’m going to put the table right here beside your dresser, honey,” Myungjun’s mother said kindly as she noisily unfolded it. “Watch your toes if you need to leave the room.”

“Thanks, mom,” Myungjun said, rising to his feet to bring his desk chair over to the table as Moonbin set down the tray.

“I’m going to get the other chairs for your friends,” she said before she was sweeping from the room.

“I hope everyone is okay with green tea,” Moonbin said, pouring the tea. “I was going to make coffee, but your mother insisted green tea was best for studying minds.”

“She also probably knew I’d already had two cups of it today,” Myungjun snickered, sitting down at the table.

Moonbin laughed, setting the teapot down. “Are you going to sit on the floor forever, Dongmin?”

“No, I’m...I’m getting up,” Dongmin hoped his voice didn’t sound strained. The distraction of Moonbin and Myungjun’s mother had at least slowed his heart rate, but there was still a distinct warmth in his cheeks that would certainly betray him. He rose to his feet, pressing his textbooks onto the table just as Myungjun’s mother returned with the chairs.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” she said before retreating and closing the door behind her.

“Since Dongmin was doing his own work before we interrupted him, I’ll help you with your homework,” Moonbin said, sliding a cup of tea over the table towards Myungjun, letting the bottom scrape lightly over the surface. “The tea’s hot, so be careful.”

Myungjun patted his hand along the table almost exactly where Moonbin had left the cup. His fingertips found it, marking its location before he pulled out his cellphone, following voice prompts to set it to record their conversation. Dongmin tore his eyes away, opening his books to resume his work from earlier. Just as he expected, he didn’t get very far in his own textbooks, but not because Moonbin and Myungjun were distracting.

Moonbin had no idea how to describe colours.

“ _Red_ , Dongmin, how do you describe _red_?” Moonbin’s hands were already pressed to his forehead, and they’d barely even started.

“Well...it’s a warm colour, right?” Dongmin shrugged, watching Moonbin’s eyes light up.

“Yes! It’s a warm colour,” Moonbin repeated.

Myungjun laughed behind his hand, his eyes crinkled into crescents. “I know that. Professor Jung said red, orange and yellow were warm colours and green, blue and purple were cool colours. He wants us to describe the themes of the colour and how it can be used in paintings.”

“Well, red is fire,” Moonbin said immediately. “Orange is...also fire. Yellow...”

Dongmin couldn’t help but laugh, stifling it behind his fist. “Red is _fire_. Amazing conclusion, Moonbin.”

“There’s tones too, right?” Myungjun was frowning a little. “Like dark reds and light reds?”

“Light red? You mean pink?” Moonbin shrugged. “People say it’s a girl colour, but not always.”

Myungjun pouted, propping his chin up on his fist. “So, there is no light red...?”

“There is,” Dongmin said immediately, cutting off Moonbin as he opened his mouth. “Red is...” he paused, taking a moment to think about it.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Moonbin grinned over at him, but Dongmin just shook his head, taking a sip of his tea before finally starting to answer.

“Red is hot,” Dongmin finally said. “When stoves are on, they turn red – you can feel the heat from them, right?”

Myungjun nodded his head.

“Red is a sign of danger,” Dongmin went on. “Like a warning, because it’s bright and unmistakable. It stands out, and can’t really be ignored – like someone who’s really, really loud on a bus or subway train.”

Myungjun laughed.

“But...red can also be sweet. Strawberries are red, and people give red roses to show their love. Those reds are a bit darker than the bright ones, actually...” Dongmin rubbed his forehead, trying to ignore Moonbin’s gaping mouth. “Um...I think that’s about it...”

“Moonbin, you’re fired,” Myungjun said immediately, pointing in his general direction and missing by a few inches. “Dongmin’s teaching me colours now.”

“Well gee, I’m so sorry I’m a failure,” Moonbin snickered. “But I do have to agree. I’ll see myself out.”

“What about orange?” Myungjun asked, his attention now fully on Dongmin. He felt his heart start to beat a little faster. Moonbin said something about going to help Myungjun’s mother with dinner before leaving the room. Dongmin took a breath and closed his textbooks, knowing now he would no longer need them.

Slowly, Dongmin began to describe the colours one at a time. It was difficult to detach himself from the sight of each colour and explain them using his other senses, but Myungjun never once interrupted, only listening with rapt attention. He struggled with describing purple, but picked himself back up by explaining ‘grey’ as a rainy day – tired and cold, yet sometimes warm like ashes. He was just finishing up with white (refreshing and cool, clear and pristine, like fresh air on a snowy day) when Moonbin was pushing the door open, his arms laden with plates of food. Myungjun stopped the recording with a tap to his phone before grinning as food was placed in front of him.

Dongmin ate quietly as Moonbin and Myungjun bantered. He wondered if he was overreacting – if he was just imagining that Myungjun’s smiles were even brighter than before. He certainly wasn’t imagining the way Myungjun would turn towards him, his head tilting as though he were listening to see if Dongmin was still there. Dongmin felt his cheeks warm as he looked down at his bowl, his chopsticks scraping the porcelain as he dug to the bottom of his meal. Moonbin’s eyes were on him too, but that was easier to ignore compared to Myungjun. He couldn’t say when it had started – or even why. Dongmin just knew from the nervous jitters in his stomach to the way his heart flipped upside down when Myungjun looked towards him in his own unique way that he’d gone beyond friendship.

“It must be delicious,” Moonbin chortled. “He hasn’t said a word.”

Dongmin swallowed and shook his head. “I’m just really hungry. Sorry.”

“So, it’s not delicious?” Myungjun asked, that dazzling grin back on his face.

“Oh, it is,” Dongmin said immediately. “Which is why I can’t talk—I’m eating.” He shoved another mouthful of meat and rice into his mouth, earning a laugh from Moonbin.

“Don’t choke,” Moonbin snickered. “I’ll go see if there’s more, since you’re apparently starving to death.” He rose to his feet and left the room, leaving Dongmin alone with Myungjun and too many nervous feelings.

“My mom always makes too much,” Myungjun said, breaking the silence when it lingered longer than a few seconds. “She’ll probably send you and Moonbin home with leftovers. So, you don’t have to eat so fast.”

“Yeah,” Dongmin set down his spoon, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

Myungjun set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair. “You know...” he began in a soft voice, but trailed off a moment later with a shake of his head and a little laugh. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“No,” Dongmin insisted. “Tell me.”

Myungjun laughed softly once more, scratching the back of his neck for a moment before he was picking his chopsticks up again. “I was born blind, you know...” he said carefully. “I remember one of the things kids and adults used to say to me was that I would never see a rainbow, and that was a shame.” He swallowed, poking at his rice. “So many people have tried to explain colours to me, but none of them did it like you did. I feel like I really saw them today...I saw a rainbow for the first time, and I’m so grateful for that.”

Dongmin didn’t think. He grabbed a clean napkin and reached over the table to press against Myungjun’s wet cheeks. Dongmin felt his own eyes prickle.

“I can finally answer that stupid question,” Myungjun laughed, wiping his other eye with his sleeve. “What’s your favourite colour? I couldn’t answer that before, but now I think I know. It’s yellow – yellow like the warm sun, and the smell of flowers in spring, and the sound of laughter. I really like yellow, Dongmin.”

“I like blue,” Dongmin managed to get out, his voice thick. Blue like a clear sky, refreshing and cool – blue like a cold lake, but comfortable when it’s too warm. Like wind off the ocean, and the sound of water rushing down a rocky river.

“I want to go to that art museum Professor Lee mentioned,” Myungjun said, starting to pull himself back together. “I want you to come with me.”

“Not Moonbin...?” Dongmin asked.

“Well...” Myungjun’s face flushed as he shrugged his shoulders. “Do you think he’d mind if I asked you instead?”

Dongmin shrugged, but allowed himself to smile. “I’d love to go with you.”

Myungjun grinned. “It’s two weeks from now on Tuesday. It’s during reading week, so I hope you can spare the time.”

“I can,” Dongmin promised.

“You guys aren’t planning something without me, are you?” Moonbin asked, finally returning with two plates laden with extra food.

“I’m taking Dongmin to the art museum!” Myungjun said without an ounce of shame.

“Oh, okay,” Moonbin laughed, sitting back down.

“You’re not upset, are you...?” Dongmin couldn’t help but ask.

“No, museums aren’t really my thing, so I’m glad you’re going.” Moonbin dropped a large spoonful of rice and meat into Dongmin’s bowl. “There you go, Prince of Stuffing your Face. Eat up.”

“Hey, my people and I take offense to that remark,” Dongmin warned. “You’re just jealous of our ability to enjoy a good meal.”

“For that, you get more,” Moonbin said, dropping more food into Dongmin’s bowl, overflowing it slightly. “Eat all that, and I’ll think about maybe being jealous of you.”

“You want me to explode, don’t you?” Dongmin accused, but picked up his chopsticks anyway.

“Like the prettiest firework,” Moonbin snickered.

Dongmin slapped him on the arm, making him yelp in pain. Myungjun was laughing again, his crescent shaped eyes shining brightly, even more beautiful than the moon.

 

\--

 

Midterms came and went, leaving Dongmin with a headache and the hope that he achieved at least an eighty percent average – seventy at the worst. Myungjun passed his colours essay with an astounding ninety-eight percent, and Dongmin had a feeling the Professor hadn’t given him that mark just for his effort.

Though he knew he probably shouldn’t, Dongmin found himself fretting about going to the art museum with Myungjun. He stood in front of the mirror in his room, laying shirts against his chest as he tried to find the colours that looked best on him because for once in his life, Dongmin wanted to look good. He felt like a fool when he remembered Myungjun couldn’t see him anyway and threw the clothes back into the closet. He was being ridiculous. He could scarcely remember the last time he had a crush, but it had most certainly been easier than this. His crush had approached him first, and Dongmin had been flattered by the praising words and allowed himself to be swept into a relationship that would later make him feel like a trophy on display.

This time, Dongmin’s crush had no idea what he looked like. He had his selfish wish – to meet someone who could see beyond his looks and fall for the person beneath the face. Despite that, Dongmin was afraid. What if Myungjun didn’t like _him_? What if his looks really were his only value? Dongmin didn’t dare think about that, but he still felt an uncomfortable twinge that maybe Myungjun would already like him if he could see. Hell, he didn’t even know if Myungjun liked men.

“I’m insane,” Dongmin breathed to himself in the shower, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for Myungjun so soon. It had only been a handful of months since they’d met, but he’d already left such a distinct impression on his heart. Dongmin blamed the brilliant smile and the cheerful sound of his voice. He needed to pull himself together as soon as possible before he damaged the friendship that was already there.

On the day of the trip, Dongmin ended up picking through his clothes yet again. This time, however, he didn’t worry about colours or how the clothes made him look. He chose a yellow and white striped shirt he’d never worn before (now that he knew yellow was Myungjun’s favourite colour, the shirt seemed far less hideous than before) and the softest sweater he owned, even if it was a little bit big on him and resulted in sweater paws. He tried not to spend more than ten minutes on his hair, but _did_ end up spritzing cologne over himself after a five minute debate because it _really_ couldn’t hurt.

He sighed at himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He really was an idiot, he decided. Cologne, soft sweaters...this wasn’t a date, but he was acting like it was. He shouldn’t have bothered, but if he washed up again and changed now he would be late for meeting Myungjun.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Dongmin huffed at his reflection once more before turning away from it. His music distracted him from his nerves on the way to Myungjun’s house, but when it came to pressing the code to call up to the apartment, Dongmin was at a loss, his nerves making his fingers tremble. Finally, after an internal battle with his racing heart, he tapped in the numbers and waited. Myungjun’s mom answered and announced with an unexpectedly cheerful voice that Myungjun was on his way down. Dongmin hung up and sighed shakily, stepping back to wait and willing his butterflies to relax.

Myungjun emerged from around the corner, his sunglasses on and his cane in hand as he made his way to the front doors. If Dongmin was nervous before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Myungjun had put some effort into his appearance. His mom had probably helped, of course. His usual baggy sweaters had been replaced with one that hugged his form rather than hung from his shoulders. Dongmin could swear his jeans were cleaner than usual, and he couldn’t miss the tidy yet tousled style his hair had been combed into, leaving his forehead exposed.

“Dongmin?” He called when he pulled the security door open.

“I’m here,” Dongmin answered, relief flooding him when his voice didn’t shake.

Myungjun grinned and swept over to his side, his hand reaching for him. Dongmin took his arm by habit, refusing to allow himself to feel awkward. This is what they _always_ did, he told himself. There was nothing romantic or special about it. Dongmin had known he would be Myungjun’s eyes for the trip – that’s all it was.

Myungjun pushed his collapsed cane into his backpack before tugging Dongmin’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said happily, pointing straight ahead of them – and towards the wall.

Unable to help it, Dongmin laughed and adjusted his arm so he was pointing to the glass doors that would take them outside. “That way,” he said, affection slipping into his tone.

Myungjun laughed, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. “This way,” he echoed, taking the first step before Dongmin led them out the doors.

It felt like a date. Dongmin tried to tell himself it wasn’t, but heads were turning as they walked towards the subway. They were both dressed well, and their arms were linked like such a typical couple it was no wonder they were drawing eyes. Since Myungjun wasn’t carrying his cane, nobody knew Dongmin was just being his guide. He took a breath and let it out, reminding himself that they were just _friends_ going to visit an art museum, and Dongmin was just helping.

But it still felt like a date.

“I like this sweater,” Myungjun said idly as they sat next to each other on the subway. He was running his fingers over Dongmin’s arm, pinching the fabric and feeling the texture. “It’s really soft.”

“Thanks,” Dongmin felt his heart warm and beat a little more frantically.

“You’ve been really quiet,” Myungjun said, still playing with the sleeve of the sweater. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m just...” Dongmin couldn’t think of an excuse. “I’m just a bit distracted, that’s all.”

Myungjun hummed, finally letting go of the sleeve in favour of resting his hands in his lap. His fingers twisted together, an action that made Dongmin feel more nervous just watching. He reached over and laid a hand over Myungjun’s, putting an end to his fidgeting. Myungjun’s head turned towards him slightly, but he said nothing.

“I’ve never been to an art museum,” Dongmin finally said, coming to the conclusion that silence made Myungjun worry.

“Neither have I,” Myungjun said with a soft laugh. “For obvious reasons. I wasn’t really planning on going when Professor Lee invited me, actually.”

“What made you change your mind?” Dongmin looked over at him curiously.

Myungjun shrugged his shoulders, his hands sliding out from beneath Dongmin’s to latch onto the sleeve of his sweater once more. “I guess I just wanted to go with you,” he said, almost too quietly to hear over the rumble of the subway. Dongmin thought his heart might burst out of his chest. “You described colours to me, so I thought maybe you could do the same with art too.”

“Ah,” Dongmin felt his heart sink a little, though he knew he didn’t really have the right to. They were friends, and friends helped each other out. If Myungjun wanted him to be his eyes, then that’s what Dongmin would be.

Though silence fell between them once more, Myungjun didn’t remove his hands from the sweater this time. Dongmin found himself watching his fingers, the desire to hold his hand almost overwhelming in intensity. He was glad when they arrived at their stop, ending their silent subway trip in favour of them making their way down the final few blocks to the art museum.

“It looks like your class is already here,” Dongmin observed as they approached the front steps. Though he’d only attended Myungjun’s class once, he did faintly recognize a few of the faces – and he wasn’t likely to forget Professor Lee.

“Myungjun! You made it!” She greeted, swiftly approaching and taking his free arm, guiding him towards the group. Dongmin didn’t miss the way Myungjun’s plush lips thinned, and he was quick to take his arm back when Professor Lee finally released him.

A few more students approached, several of them uncannily kind as they greeted Myungjun as though they were old friends. Myungjun’s responses were short, and he leaned into Dongmin firmly enough that he was forced to release his arm in favour of wrapping it protectively around his waist.

“Are you okay?” Dongmin asked quietly when the students began to file into the museum.

“I wish people wouldn’t just grab me,” Myungjun said, his voice stiff as he felt his way up the stairs with his feet. “It happens all the time, especially when I’m crossing the street or something. People don’t _ask_ , they just assume I’m helpless and don’t know how to do things.”

“Professor Lee took a liking to you,” Dongmin observed, noting how she kept looking back to make sure Myungjun and Dongmin were on their way.

“She’s trying to make up for what happened during the sculpting assignment,” Myungjun huffed. “She’s being really nice, and I appreciate her support, but I wish she wouldn’t. Some of the students talk to me like a child too – it’s...really uncomfortable.”

Dongmin squeezed Myungjun’s arm comfortingly, going silent now that they’d rejoined the school group. Professor Lee was introducing their tour guide – a short woman who probably wouldn’t come close to reaching Dongmin’s shoulders.

“Let’s just keep up at our own pace,” Myungjun said when the tour started. Dongmin had to agree, already hearing the guide telling stories about who created the art and when and what each part of the paintings signified.

“These are just portraits of people,” Dongmin said under his breath as the guide prattled on. It was disgustingly boring, and he could only hope Myungjun was enjoying himself a little more. He played with the sleeve of Dongmin’s sweater as they stood beside a large painting that had been well roped off.

“What kind of art do you like?” Myungjun asked, ignoring the monologue about the historical significance of the people depicted in the painting.

“I like...scenery paintings,” Dongmin shrugged. “Not really people, just a background. Some abstract art too.”

Myungjun hummed and nodded his head. “Abstract is...?”

“It’s like...” Dongmin frowned as he continued to follow the school group. “It’s not something that’s obvious at first look. Sometimes it’s downright strange. But...it has a way of sort of making you feel something without being explicit in the details.”

“Ah...” Myungjun nodded again, his eyebrows raising thoughtfully. “Is it like...playing random notes on a piano, even if they don’t sound good together, but it just suits how you feel?”

“Well...yes, actually, I think that’s exactly it,” Dongmin laughed. “Or just playing one note you really like with a few other notes in between – or a single chord without context.”

“I think I like abstract then,” Myungjun said, picking up his pace a little. “Didn’t the guide say she was going to take us through the abstract section? I hope we get there faster.”

As excited as Myungjun became to experience the abstract art section of the museum, they still had several more sections to go through. Dongmin whispered descriptions of varying quality under his breath, often receiving snickers from Myungjun until they were visiting the paintings of natural wonders. Dongmin was much better at describing those, since Myungjun has associated the colour green with the smell of leaves and knew the feeling of the sun on his skin.

“Are you two enjoying yourself?”

Myungjun jumped slightly, gripping Dongmin’s arm a little tighter. He could understand. Professor Lee had snuck up on them – even Dongmin hadn’t heard her approaching.

“Yes,” Dongmin said, speaking for Myungjun while he recollected himself.

“Excellent, excellent,” Professor Lee nodded her head, smiling at them both though her eyes lingered on Dongmin a lot more than Myungjun. “I meant to ask you, ah...Dongmin, was it?”

Dongmin just nodded his head.

“The arts department always has need of models for our students,” Professor Lee said, immediately getting to the point. “You’ll be paid for it, of course. I’m sure a face like yours could easily get a position – and I’m certain our students would enjoy using you as inspiration.”

 _The students?_ Dongmin wondered, _or just you?_

“With all due respect, Professor, I’m not interested in modelling,” Dongmin said, hoping that would be the absolute end of it. Dongmin went to great lengths to avoid people who focused on his appearance – and he’d be damned if he’d encourage that.

“Why not? You’d do great at it,” Professor Lee frowned slightly. “I can give you some sign up forms and I’ll put in a good word for you too.”

“I’m not interested, Professor,” Dongmin repeated, gently pushing Myungjun, wanting him to start walking towards the next painting. Thankfully, he took the cue and began to walk, tugging on Dongmin’s arm to get them away from Professor Lee just a bit faster.

“What was that?” Myungjun asked under his breath when Professor Lee’s footsteps were left behind.

“What it sounded like,” Dongmin replied, his voice tired as he gently pulled Myungjun to a stop in front of a massive mural of a large waterfall. “This one’s really nice,” he said, attempting to draw attention to the painting. “The artist used a really big canvas to capture the entire scene – it’s like—”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but I thought it might’ve been too invasive,” Myungjun spoke up, ignoring the painting. “But all day, and half the time I’ve spent time in public with you, I hear people talking. I have good ears, as you could guess,” he laughed lightly, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of Dongmin’s sweater again. “At first, I didn’t realize it was probably you people were talking about on the street and on the subway. But now that I’ve been hearing ‘that guy next to the blind guy all day...I know it must be you.”

 _The blind guy_ , Dongmin’s fingers curled, his lips thinning. Myungjun had a name.

“You must be _really_ good looking to receive that many compliments,” Myungjun laughed gently, like the situation was funny to him. Dongmin supposed to someone who was blind and had only known him a short time, it was funny. “And Professor Lee sounded desperate for you to model. I know you turned her down, but maybe you should do it.”

“No,” Dongmin closed his eyes, already wishing he was anywhere but here.

“Why not?” Myungjun asked. “Are you just nervous? I don’t think you have to be a nude model or anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Dongmin repeated. “I get enough people staring at me already. The last thing I want is to give them permission.”

“Oh,” Myungjun’s smile faded, his head bowing slightly. And though this wasn’t the best place for a heart to heart, Dongmin found himself talking.

“I get called ‘handsome’ so often, it’s not a compliment anymore,” Dongmin stared at the waterfall painting, almost able to see the moving shape of the water as it fell. “I can’t eat at a restaurant without some waitress winking at me – I can’t even go to school without having classmates approaching me and praising my looks. It’s been like that since middle school – and every day that goes by, it gets worse.” Dongmin ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the shuffling of steps that told them the class was now moving on to the next section. “I’m not going to ask you to understand. You can’t see this kind of thing – you don’t know what it’s like.”

“Is it like hearing the crowd parting around you while they whisper, ‘watch out for the blind man’?” Myungjun asked, tension making his voice a little higher than normal. “Is it like having people walk up to you and wrap their arms around your shoulders and say, ‘let me help you cross the street’? No, better yet, how about ‘why is he alone? Someone should be looking after him. He can’t do this by himself’.”

“Myungjun, I would _never_ compare our situations,” Dongmin insisted. “It’s not the same.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Myungjun waved his free hand in the air. “I’m talking about how you think I can’t _see_ the sort of things you go through. I can _hear_ it – I can hear how people judge me and act like being blind is my only trait. Just because I can’t _see_ whether or not you are handsome doesn’t mean I can’t hear about it.”

“Myungjun, that’s not what I—”

“Then what?” Myungjun demanded, letting go of Dongmin’s arm in favour of folding his own across his chest. “What did you mean?”

“I just meant...” Dongmin didn’t know what he meant. His arm felt cold and naked without Myungjun, but he didn’t dare reach for him to bring him back to his side. The waterfalls suddenly looked less beautiful and more like a friendship that was tumbling to its end. “I don’t know what I meant...”

Myungjun frowned, his crossed arms tightening. “Don’t ever tell me I don’t know how something is just because I can’t see it.”

“I’m sorry,” Dongmin’s head bowed.

Myungjun was quiet for a moment before he sighed and wrapped his hands back around Dongmin’s arm. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, but Dongmin did wonder if it really was.

 

\--

 

Myungjun’s words lingered for days after the art museum. They kept Dongmin up at night, and he felt more and more sorry each time his own words came back to him. They _had_ been insensitive. Myungjun was right to get upset with him – and his own experiences told Dongmin that maybe they weren’t so different after all.

And that was why Dongmin found himself in a flower shop, closing his eyes to sniff nearly every flower he walked by, trying to find one that smelled nice over choosing one with bright, flashy colours. He eventually settled on a small pot of jasmine, the delicate scent making him feel at peace and less nervous about what he was about to do.

Myungjun’s mom answered the buzzer, and thankfully, they were both home. Dongmin made his way up the elevator, his heart thumping a little in his chest. He almost wished Myungjun’s mom wasn’t so quick to open the door after he’d knocked, but he supposed this meant he wouldn’t fret over the foolish sounding speech he’d composed in his mind.

Myungjun was in his room, the blinds pulled open to allow the sunlight in. His hands were moulding a lump of clay, though the shape wasn’t anything Dongmin could identify just yet. There was a crease in his brow, and he wondered if Myungjun was having trouble with this sculpture. He paused and looked up when he heard the door open.

“It’s Dongmin,” he greeted, and a flicker of relief went through him when he saw Myungjun’s lips curl upwards in a smile.

“Hey,” Myungjun said, letting go of his clay and picking up a wet towel to clean his fingers. “You came to visit on your own?”

“Yeah,” Dongmin shrugged, letting the door close behind him. “Sorry to drop in.”

Myungjun shook his head and grinned, his eyes crinkling into those familiar crescents. “I was bored anyway...” he trailed off, tilting his head slightly. “Did you bring tea, or is that your perfume?”

Dongmin was surprised he’d already picked up on the jasmine. “I kind of...brought you flowers,” he said shyly, feeling his cheeks burn.

“...Really?” Myungjun sounded unexpectedly surprised.

“Yeah...” Dongmin gently set the pot down on the desk, letting the clunk alert Myungjun to where it was. “It’s jasmine. I thought it smelled nice.”

“It does,” Myungjun agreed, his hand sliding over his desk to find the pot before feeling up the sides to the plant tucked inside. “It’s beautiful...thank you...nobody’s ever brought me flowers before.”

Dongmin swallowed, finding it hard to miss the choked sound to his words. “Nobody...?”

Myungjun shook his head, his fingers still feeling the leaves. “Why’d you bring them...?”

Dongmin no longer wanted to bring up the incident at the art museum – not when Myungjun was so happy just receiving the flowers. But he _had_ come with a purpose, and he wanted to see it through. He’d bring Myungjun flowers again. His heart leapt when he thought he wanted to bring Myungjun flowers all the time if it made him smile like this.

“I don’t think I apologized properly at the museum,” Dongmin said, shrugging his shoulders. Just as he expected, Myungjun’s expression fell slightly.

“Don’t worry about that,” Myungjun said, taking his hands away from the flowers. “Really...I’m the one who should be sorry. I overreacted – I was on edge all day because of the things people said...I just snapped...it’s my fault.”

“I won’t ask,” Dongmin could tell from Myungjun’s expression that none of it would be any good.

Shaking his head, Myungjun let out a breathy laugh. “You and Moonbin are the only people aside from my parents who have ever made any kind of effort to ignore my disability,” he said softly. “Instead of it being all you ever see, it’s just part of what you see. Everyone else...instead of bothering to describe a painting to me, they whisper to their friends that someone like me doesn’t belong in an art museum, because I ‘can’t see’ the art and can’t experience it.”

“But you can,” Dongmin protested.

“I know,” Myungjun said, smiling. “Thanks to you. I couldn’t before, but after doing that colour essay, now I can. That’s why I really wanted to go to the museum with you. You took the time to show me instead of telling me I couldn’t, like so many other people.”

“I should’ve tried to show you my issue too,” Dongmin sighed. “Instead of telling you I didn’t expect you to understand. That’s why I’m sorry. I should never have said what I said.”

Myungjun smiled and shook his head. “I forgive you. You must’ve been frustrated. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up on that when I encouraged you to be a model.”

“I’ve never really said it to anyone, but sometimes it really does feel like the only thing people ever like about me is my face,” Dongmin mumbled.

“Well, _I_ don’t like you for your face,” Myungjun grinned, his eyes crinkling.

Dongmin laughed, unable to help but smile. “Of course not. You’ve never seen it.”

“Can I see it?” Myungjun asked suddenly, catching him off guard enough to cut off his laughter.

“How?” Dongmin asked when he finally got himself together.

Myungjun rose to his feet, holding out his hands. “The same way I see everything else.”

Dongmin’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what Myungjun had meant. He saw through touch and sound – something that felt even more personal than just looking at a face. Myungjun knew the sound of his voice, the shape of his arm, and probably the sound of his footsteps too. He’d never thought so deeply about how Myungjun truly viewed him, and Dongmin wondered if what he already saw was attractive. If he did, would seeing his face change anything?

“Okay,” Dongmin agreed. He wondered if he’d need to take Myungjun’s hands to guide them to his face – but he remembered Myungjun hated it when people assumed he needed help.

Myungjun’s hands found his chest first, pressing just below his collar bone. Dongmin remained still, letting his hands move up his neck and to his cheeks at their own pace. He’d been prepared for how different it would be to let a blind man see him, but he didn’t expect it to make his heart beat twice as fast.

Myungjun was gentle, his fingertips tracing his features one at a time. He found his hairline, traced his eyebrows, and the shape of his temples. Dongmin knew he shouldn’t feel so enamoured, but having Myungjun see him made him feel less exposed than a thousand staring eyes, yet so laid bare that he felt naked. Dongmin’s face warmed, and he let his eyes fall closed. By the time Myungjun was tracing his jawline, Dongmin knew.

He’d never loved someone like this before.

Myungjun removed his hands, and Dongmin wasn’t sure if the faint pink tint on Myungjun’s cheeks was his natural glow or not. He seemed to not know what to say, and Dongmin didn’t feel the need to encourage him to speak.

“Can I sculpt you?” Myungjun finally asked, making Dongmin’s heart leap. “Though...you said you didn’t want to be a model...sorry...” he laughed lightly and shook his head. His cheeks turned an even more vivid shade of pink.

“It’s okay,” Dongmin said, his eyes falling on the clay still sitting on the desk. _I don’t mind if it’s you_ , his thoughts added.

“Okay,” Myungjun said breathlessly, sitting back down. His hands landed back on the clay, and Dongmin knew he would start now. He wondered if he should watch. His eyes were lingering on Myungjun’s hands, his arms, and the profile of his face as he concentrated on the work in front of him. Dongmin wanted to be closer – to feel those hands on him again and see that smile ever day.

 _I should go._ The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them. He didn’t want to go.

So Dongmin just watched, sitting down on the edge of Myungjun’s bed when his legs became tired. He watched Myungjun’s hands work the clay skillfully, his fingers tracing the edges as he created them. Slowly, Dongmin began to recognize himself, though with a handful of minor differences. The light began to fade, but Myungjun didn’t stop working – and Dongmin supposed it was an advantage to being blind that he had no need for light.

Dongmin watched until he could barely see, the only light in the room coming from the streetlights outside the window. He thought about turning the light on but closed his eyes instead, peeking into the world Myungjun saw every day. It was peaceful, but also scary – but perhaps the fear came from Dongmin knowing how it was to live with sight and struggling to see a way without it.

“I’m done,” Myungjun finally said, making Dongmin open his eyes once more. It was almost solidly dark in the room now, but Dongmin could just make out the outline of Myungjun, his skin glowing in the faint light. “Do you like it?”

“I’ll have to turn on the light,” Dongmin said, smiling as he rose to his feet.

“You mean you didn’t already?” Myungjun laughed.

Dongmin only shrugged, using his cellphone as a flashlight to find the light switch and turning it on. His heart was racing as he approached the sculpture – a simple bust with only the face and shoulders. Like his sculpture of Jinwoo, it was near perfect. This time, however, the few missed details looked less like accidents and more like stylistic choices. The sculpture’s eyes were closed, his lips curled into a small smile. Dongmin could see himself sleeping peacefully, and the handsome face Myungjun had moulded into clay gave him the feeling of looking at an ethereal prince. For once in his life, Dongmin could get a sense of how people saw him. It didn’t excuse the whispers, but at least now he understood the ‘why’s.

“It’s really beautiful,” Dongmin admitted.

“Is it...?” Myungjun’s nervous smile grew into a genuine one. “You were quiet for a long time, so I was afraid you didn’t like it.”

“No, it’s really nice – that’s why I was quiet,” Dongmin’s cheeks heated up as he laughed and shook his head. “You did a really good job.”

“Thank you,” Myungjun was smiling, his cheeks a little flushed as he bowed his head towards his knees. His toes were digging into the carpet at his feet.

Dongmin wanted to say more – wanted to express the swirl of thoughts that were circling through his mind. He wanted to hold his hand to stop the shy, nervous way his fingers curled in his lap as the silence enveloped them once more.

He wanted to tell Myungjun how he felt.

For a moment, Dongmin opened his mouth, but found that his heart had lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed around it, trying in vain to gather himself and make his throat work through the words so many had said to him before. _You’re beautiful. I love you. Will you be my boyfriend?_

Dongmin was spared by the knock on the door, but the sad way his heart dropped back into his chest made him wonder if he’d really been saved.

“Myungjun, your father will be home in ten minutes, and dinner’s almost ready,” Myungjun’s mom said, cracking the door with a gentle smile as she surveyed the scene. Dongmin wondered if it was a strange one – Myungjun sitting nervously at his desk while Dongmin stood silently a foot behind him, his eyes locked onto a sculpture nobody could mistake for anyone but him.

Yet, Myungjun’s mother said nothing about it, only casting a warm smile in Dongmin’s direction. “And Dongmin, you can eat with us if you would like,” she invited.

Dongmin wondered if it would be a good idea. He felt like he needed to get out, but also felt like he needed to stay as close to Myungjun as possible.

Turning over his shoulder towards the door, Myungjun smiled in his mom’s direction. “He’ll stay,” he answered for him, and Dongmin could only nod and hope his racing heart would survive the evening.

 

\--

 

He spent the last days of midterm focused on his studies, trying to keep his mind from drifting wayward – from thinking about the delicate fingertips brushing against his face and the bright smile Myungjun always wore. He knew that if he thought about Myungjun, the urge to bring him another flower – roses this time – and confess would be almost too much for him. In the dead of night as he stared sleeplessly at his ceiling, he wondered if that would even be a bad thing.

It was irrational, he reasoned as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush dangling from between his lips. He shouldn’t feel this afraid. He’d never understood just what it took to confess. He’d never experienced it before – people had always come to him. Dongmin didn’t even know who to go to for advice. Moonbin had been friends with Myungjun for years – how could he possibly ask him how to ask Myungjun out?

Dongmin groaned and spat into the sink, wiping his mouth with a palm of water and scrubbing his hands vigorously. No matter how he looked at it, it was all the same. He would have to tell Myungjun himself. The worst that could happen was a rejection, and the subsequent collapse of their newly built friendship. Though the idea of having Myungjun love him in return was enough to make his heart beat with excitement, the thought of losing him entirely was unthinkable.

Dongmin dragged his feet to his campus, his eyes staring down at the concrete beneath his feet. Though music played through his headphones, the attempt to distract his thoughts was futile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Moonbin wave from a bench beneath one of the larger campus trees. He let out a breath and turned off his music. He put a smile on his face and hoped it was convincing.

“Hey, how are you?” Moonbin asked, folding his textbook closed and holding the page with his finger. “Did you have a good midterm?”

Dongmin nodded his head, deciding not to answer the initial question. “Yeah. It was nice to sleep in for once.”

Moonbin laughed, finally fishing a bookmark from his backpack and shoving it haphazardly into his textbook and letting the pages close with a soft thud. “Was the art museum any good?”

Dongmin had almost entirely forgotten Moonbin had known about that. Again, he nodded. “There were a lot of really nice paintings there.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Moonbin smiled, but he frowned a little a moment later. “Actually, I went to Myungjun’s house the other day to read some of his textbooks to him. I asked him about the museum, and he just gave me shorthand answers about the whole thing, but he did at least tell me it was fun.” Moonbin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He spent most of the time I was there fidgeting with a piece of clay. He only ever gets quiet when something’s bothering him...”

“I wouldn’t know,” Dongmin said thickly. His heart was rising back into his throat again.

“Did something happen at the museum?” Moonbin tilted his head to the side, his expression curious, but also genuinely concerned.

“We...um...had a little bit of an argument, but...” Dongmin trailed off as Moonbin frowned once more. “We smoothed it over, I think...I brought him a flower as an apology, and he said it was okay.” Unless Myungjun hadn’t forgiven him after all...? Dongmin felt his stomach turn upside down.

“I saw the flower,” Moonbin relaxed once more, his smile back into place. “He said it was from you, but he hadn’t given the reason. It must be something else, then...”

“Does he act like this often...?” Dongmin couldn’t help but ask.

Moonbin shook his head. “No, he’s one of the most positive people I know – which is why it’s so strange for him. He always wants to talk.” He sighed, leaning back on the bench and folding his arms over his chest. “Though he’s okay with his blindness, sometimes it’s one of the things that brings him a lot of shame and takes away his confidence...even though we all tell him there’s nothing to worry about. I’m wondering if he’s having another moment like that...”

“We should see him after school, then,” Dongmin suggested. “Maybe it’ll cheer him up.”

Moonbin smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah. Let’s grab him some snacks from the street market too. He loves the twigim from the shop near here.”

Dongmin nodded, hoping Myungjun was alright. Dongmin didn’t like the idea of his shining smile vanishing beneath clouds of self-loathing.

He didn’t know how he managed to get through his classes for the day. Moonbin sent him a text confirming Myungjun had agreed to meet them outside his campus at four o’clock. Dongmin fidgeted through his final class, just barely holding on to what the professor was saying.

He was packing his books the moment the professor had turned his computer off, and was the first one out the door at three thirty. Moonbin was already waiting for him at the front of the campus. If Moonbin noticed his eagerness, he didn’t say anything about it, only falling into step beside him as they headed for the bustling street market. It was crowded enough that Dongmin was forced to hold Moonbin’s hand as they weaved their way between the throngs of shoppers. Merchants called out their wares and the deals they were offering in booming voices. More than once, Dongmin was forced to dodge an elderly woman as they shoved past him to get to a display.

“Here it is,” Moonbin finally said, and Dongmin was relieved this particular stand wasn’t too crowded. Twigim took time, and Dongmin handed over several bills to help cover the cost of enough for the three of them. Plucking the battered vegetables from the fryer, the shopkeeper wrapped them up neatly for them in a small bag and handed it over with a smile. Dongmin took the package while Moonbin sent a quick message to Myungjun that they were on their way.

The busy streets of Seoul were quiet compared to the market, but Dongmin scarcely noticed. His heart was beating just a little faster now that he would see Myungjun again soon. It had only been a handful of days since he brought the jasmine pot, but for Dongmin, it almost felt like centuries.

 _I’m a fool in love,_ he thought helplessly, closing his eyes for a moment and shaking it off. Moonbin was too distracted by traffic at the stoplight to notice his momentary lapse.

Students were pouring out of the arts campus when they arrived, but Dongmin had yet to spot Myungjun. Moonbin directed him over to a picnic table beneath a broad Asian maple and dropped his backpack onto the seat.

“I’ll go get him – you hold the table, okay?” Moonbin smiled and retreated before Dongmin could protest. Truthfully, he really wanted to meet Myungjun at the front doors too even if they wouldn’t have a table to sit at. He idly began to untie the bag on the twigim, wondering which of the vegetables was Myungjun’s favourite. Or perhaps he didn’t have one, and just enjoyed the differences between each one. He debated sorting the varieties to make it easier for Myungjun to find the ones he wanted, but also worried it would be a little too much. Perhaps Myungjun was good at picking his favourites out of a disorganized pile. He decided to wait and ask, but it left him with nothing more to do than anxiously twist his thumbs in silence.

When he finally noticed his two friends approaching, Myungjun holding tightly to Moonbin’s arm, Dongmin stood up to greet them. For a moment, he was struck dumb, because Myungjun’s head tilted slightly to the side as he heard his footsteps in the grass, but his smile didn’t quite seem as bright as usual.

“Sorry we made you wait, Dongmin,” Moonbin chortled, letting go of Myungjun once they found the table. “The halls are really crowded right now.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure the twigim is still hot,” Dongmin said, watching Myungjun pause for a moment, his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs.

“Twigim?” He asked, stretching one hand out slowly to immediately start searching the table for it.

“It’s all here,” Dongmin said, pushing the bowls of twigim a little closer, making sure it made enough noise that Myungjun could find it. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to sort the pieces or not so you could take what you liked the most.”

“Oh, no,” Myungjun said immediately, his fingers finding the side of the first bowl and plucking out the first thing he touched. “I like all of the twigim.” He took a bite and smiled a little. Dongmin was glad to see this smile didn’t look quite so forced. “You went to my favourite place...”

“We did,” Moonbin confirmed, moving the other two bowls as well so they were placed near Myungjun. “I know you haven’t been feeling well lately, so we really wanted to cheer you up.”

Myungjun paused his chewing, a weak laugh slipping from between his lips. “Thanks...you didn’t have to, but thank you.”

“You can tell us, you know...” Moonbin prompted. “If there’s anything bothering you, I promise, we’re all here for you...I mean it.”

“I know,” Myungjun smiled again, reaching for another twigim. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

 _We do though,_ Dongmin wanted to say, watching Myungjun eat slowly and say very little. Moonbin was right. Dongmin might not have known Myungjun as long as him, but it was out of character to see him so quiet.

“Did something happen in class?” Dongmin couldn’t help but ask.

“Ah, no...” Myungjun shook his head immediately. “That’s going well. I passed all of my midterms, so I just have to get ready for exams and complete final projects...there’s a lot of them, and I don’t know if I’ll finish the painting one...” Myungjun pouted, shrugging his shoulders. “We have to paint an image of a real-life location, but I’m blind, so...”

“Is the teacher not giving you a break?” Moonbin asked, chewing on a piece of fried shrimp.

“He said he would go easy on the mark,” Myungjun shrugged. “But I’ve just been thinking of doing something abstract representing the park near my house, since I don’t know what anything looks like.”

“You should do that,” Dongmin said immediately. “Moonbin and I can go with you and describe it – and help you pick out the colours you want to use.”

“Yeah...” Myungjun set down the twigim he’d been eating and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I guess that would work.”

Dongmin didn’t know what else to do. He caught Moonbin’s eye from across the table, glad he wasn’t the only one concerned. He didn’t know what to do, but probing any further seemed like it would be a useless endeavour.

As the silence progressed, Myungjun picked up the twigim he’d set down and took another bite. “Sorry to be such a downer – really, I’m okay, so relax!”

Dongmin felt like the smile that lingered on Myungjun’s lips from that moment onward was just an effort to stop them from being concerned. Moonbin seemed reassured, perhaps hoping that Myungjun’s painting project had been the thing bothering him, but Dongmin wasn’t so sure. There might’ve been another problem in Myungjun’s life neither of them knew about.

He just wished he knew how to fix it.

 

\--

 

Dongmin found himself back inside a flower shop that weekend, searching amongst the brightly coloured plants for a perfect one. He’d struggled to sleep the night before, Myungjun’s smile when he received the jasmine still lingering in his mind.

 _Nobody’s ever brought me flowers before,_ he’d said. Dongmin hoped that if he received more flowers, maybe Myungjun would be cheered up. He’d never missed a smile so much in his life.

“Can I help you find something?” The shopkeeper asked, her sweet smile and laugh lines making Dongmin feel a little more at ease. Some part of him wondered if Myungjun would have similar creases in his cheeks when he grew older.

“I need something that smells nice,” Dongmin said, bending down to smell a few daffodils on display. Myungjun loves yellow, his heart whispered. But daffodils didn’t have much in the way of scent.

“Well, if you have any types of flowers in mind, we can give them a nice perfume for you at the register,” the shopkeeper said positively, but Dongmin shook his head.

“No, I want it to be natural,” and then after a moment, he had to add, “and I want them to be yellow.”

It was a difficult process that took the good part of an hour, but the shopkeeper didn’t give up. Finally, she wrapped pure white paper around the [bouquet ](https://cdn.bloomnation.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/2/0/20141124083728_file_54739708254d9.jpg)and tied it with a golden ribbon before smiling fondly at Dongmin.

“She’s a lucky girl to have someone so dedicated to pick just the right flowers,” she said.

“He’s blind,” Dongmin said without thinking. “And to him, yellow means laughter, spring, and warm sunshine.”

She looked stunned for a moment, but then smiled and gently and tucked several sprigs of pure white baby’s breath into the already tied bouquet.

“Baby’s breath,” she said, “Represents fondness, innocence, and long-lasting love.” She smiled kindly – and Dongmin realized spending so much time choosing flowers had revealed more of his love for Myungjun than he expected. “I wish you the best.”

“Thank you,” Dongmin somehow managed to get out through the sudden tightness in his throat.  She waved him out of the shop, and Dongmin suddenly felt like he was off to confess, not to brighten the day of someone he cared about.

 _Maybe I should,_ Dongmin thought, the bouquet perched in his lap as he rode the subway to the stop near Myungjun’s apartment. The fragrance of the red tipped orange roses was strong in the closed space, and a few people kept glancing over with soft smiles on their faces. Dongmin closed his eyes, listening to the stops go by as he tried to ignore the weight of their gazes. _But maybe not...he’s not feeling well right now...I shouldn’t put pressure on him..._

The short walk to Myungjun’s house was less stressful than the subway ride had been. He dialled up the now familiar buzz code number and waited.

“Hello, it’s Dongmin,” he greeted when Myungjun’s mother picked up, and she eagerly invited him inside, going as far as to open the front door by the time he’d stepped off the elevator. Her expression brightened considerably at the sight of the flowers, and Dongmin blushed furiously as she ushered him inside.

Gently, Dongmin knocked on Myungjun’s bedroom door, hearing a quiet response in return. He gently opened the door, pausing for a moment at the sight of Myungjun’s unmade bed and rumpled hair. It was a few hours past noon, and he was still in his pyjamas. He looked like he’d rolled out of bed the moment he heard the knock.

“Hey,” Dongmin greeted, and Myungjun’s eyes widened a little for a moment. “It’s me.”

“Is it just you?” Myungjun asked. “Or is Moonbin here too?”

“It’s just me,” Dongmin confirmed with a nod. “How are you?”

Myungjun shrugged, smiling a little – but it still didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve been okay...just studying, mostly...”

“I brought you something,” Dongmin said, glancing down at the flowers, whose perfume was surely starting to make its way over towards Myungjun. “Since you still don’t seem to be feeling your best.”

“You didn’t have to...” Myungjun said, but Dongmin noticed his nostrils flare for a moment. “Is it twigim again?”

“No,” Dongmin took a step closer, smiling fondly, the paper of the bouquet crinkling in his fingers slightly. “Try again.”

It took another moment for the scent to find Myungjun, but this time, his smile reached his eyes. Dongmin felt his heart warm. He’d truly missed that bright sparkle.

Myungjun reached for the bouquet, and Dongmin slipped it into his hands as he buried his nose among the roses and sunflowers. One of his cheeks brushed the delicate, thin petals of a sunflower, and Dongmin couldn’t see any difference between the shining yellow colour and the man holding the bouquet.

“You brought roses,” Myungjun said softly, a slight crackle slipping into his voice.

“They’re yellow,” Dongmin described. “With orange at the edge of the petals. There’s also sunflowers – which are also yellow, with petals that look like sunbeams.”

Myungjun’s fingers began to trace the flowers, lingering over the sunflowers for a moment, feeling their solid center and the fragile petals that bordered it. “This is beautiful...” he breathed, and Dongmin saw the faint sparkle of a tear before it fell. Dongmin grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser without thinking, reaching over to press it against his cheek. Myungjun sniffled, taking the tissue and wiping his eyes with it, but his tears fell faster than the tissue could catch them.

“You’re so nice, Dongmin...” he choked. “You did this to make me happy, didn’t you?”

“I wanted to,” Dongmin admitted, grabbing the entire box this time and handing Myungjun a few more. “You’ve looked so sad lately...It’s hard to see you like that.”

“I know,” Myungjun sniffed, pressing fresh tissues to his cheek, still clutching the bouquet with his free hand as though it was a beloved treasure. “God, Dongmin, I’m...I’m so sorry.”

“Why? You don’t need to be,” Dongmin brushed the bangs from Myungjun’s forehead, catching some of the tears he was missing.

“Yes...Yes, I do,” Myungjun shook his head, giving up on the tissues and wiping his eye with his hand instead. “I used you for my final sculpting project. I should’ve said something, but I was so scared—you said you didn’t want to be a model, yet I used you...I’m...”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Dongmin hoped that wasn’t it. He’d get over such a thing – Myungjun didn’t need to be sorry for it.

“I was having so much trouble finding inspiration,” Myungjun sobbed. “Then you showed up with flowers, and let me see your face, and I just...I knew...that it was you. I finished it the next day when you weren’t here, fired it, and then brought it to Professor Lee when reading week was over. She was surprised I finished it so early, but she gave me a really good mark on it, and now it’s on display at the school—”

“Myungjun, stop,” Dongmin pulled Myungjun close, mindful of the flowers clutched in his hand. His face buried in his shoulder, another miserable sob adding a fresh crack in Dongmin’s heart. “I’m glad I could inspire you.” It felt strange to say, but Dongmin really was happy he’d been Myungjun’s muse.

Myungjun shook his head again, pulling away from Dongmin’s hug and wiping his eyes again. “And now, you brought me more flowers...” he sniffled. “Just because I made you worried...”

“No,” Dongmin shook his head. “I brought them because...” he trailed off. What could he say?

Myungjun lifted his head a little, his eyes puffy and red from his tears, but still just as beautiful as ever. Myungjun was beautiful. Dongmin wondered if he’d go blind too if he looked for too long.

“I missed your smile,” Dongmin finally said.

Myungjun hiccupped, brushing away another stray tear. His cheeks flushed as he hid a small smile.

“You told me nobody had brought you flowers before...so I wanted to bring you more, since the jasmine made you happy,” Dongmin explained, glancing over to where the pot sat, still surviving with a tiny watering can perched next to it. The position looked so deliberate that he knew Myungjun was determined to look after it. “I felt like...if I brought you more...it would make you feel better.”

“It does...” Myungjun laughed softly. “I love them...” he hugged the bouquet fondly, the paper crinkling in his gentle hands. “I’ve always wanted someone other than a family member to bring me flowers...”

“Well...now I have,” Dongmin said. “Your mom probably has a vase...want to go get it?”

Myungjun shook his head, burying his nose in the flowers once more to smell them. “In a minute...I just...”

Dongmin paused, waiting for Myungjun to speak once more.

“Do you know what the theme of our final sculpting project is...?” Myungjun asked, his voice faint – hesitant.

“No,” Dongmin couldn’t have known – he didn’t visit the arts campus often enough to know, and had no friends from that particular department other than Myungjun.

“We had to sculpt a theme in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious...we had to use our imagination to express a feeling through a shape.” Myungjun bit his lip now, and Dongmin felt worried. “I wanted to hide this...I wanted to just let it pass, but...you keep being so nice to me that I just...can’t...”

Dongmin grabbed another tissue and pressed it into his hand. Myungjun sniffed as he wiped the fresh wave of tears away.

“Sometimes I feel like a burden...” he said, and Dongmin opened his mouth to protest, but Myungjun spoke first. “And I always thought everyone else thought the same – that nobody would ever want to be my friend...but Moonbin came into my life, and then you did too...and I’m so thankful...

“But I still wanted more than that...” Myungjun wiped his eyes again. “And that’s what I really wanted to express in my sculpture. I wanted to express how hard it was for me to even consider liking someone – let alone loving someone – and always being a burden on them.”

 _You aren’t,_ Dongmin wanted to shout, but Myungjun wasn’t finished talking.

“The theme is ‘love’, Dongmin, I really—really like you—so...I’m sorry that I used you for my project.” Myungjun was hiding his face now, but Dongmin didn’t need to see his tears to know he was crying again. “But I don’t expect you to want someone like me—someone who will just cause you trouble every day of your life—so—”

“Stop it,” Dongmin interjected, his heart thundering in his chest. “Stop saying these things. Damn it, you’re not a burden—I _love_ you.”

Myungjun’s eyes widened. Perhaps that was too strong of a word for the moment, but Dongmin couldn’t think of another one that would truly express the adoration that flooded his chest when he saw Myungjun’s eyes crinkle when he smiled. Blindness or not, Dongmin knew he would’ve fallen for him in a hundred lifetimes.

“I had to keep telling myself that the trip to the art museum wasn’t a date. I loved being your eyes – I loved showing you things, and teaching you colours, and learning more and more about you.”

“Is that why you wore that really nice cologne...?” Myungjun asked shyly, his cheeks flushing bright pink.

“Yes,” Dongmin admitted, his own embarrassment making him flustered, but Myungjun only giggled behind his hand. “I wasn’t going to tell you any of this tonight...I just wanted to cheer you up.”

“Well...” Myungjun’s smile was blinding now, the tears leaking from his eyes no longer tears of misery. “I’m _really_ happy now.”

“The lady at the flower shop wished me luck because she thought it was a confession bouquet,” Dongmin was babbling now, watching Myungjun’s hands wrinkle the paper of the bouquet in the nervous fidget he was familiar with. He forced himself to look away. “We should...um...”

Myungjun giggled after a moment, the crinkling of paper growing a little louder for a moment. “I want to go on a real date...if...well if you really want to.”

“I really want to,” Dongmin confirmed, the heat in his face rising.

“And...you should wear that cologne again...and that really soft sweater...”

“And bring you flowers more often.”

Myungjun grinned at that, eyes turning to bright crescents. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before...”

“Well...” Dongmin cleared his throat a little, feeling like a middle school child. “Now you do. Shall we get those flowers into a vase now?”

Myungjun nodded, reaching out with one hand and stepping closer. Dongmin was rooted to the spot as the hand found his chest before slipping around his back. Myungjun’s cheek rested on his shoulder, and Dongmin returned the hug with a smile.

“I’m not dreaming, right?” Myungjun asked, his voice soft as he pressed a little closer.

“No,” Dongmin confirmed, resting his cheek on the top of Myungjun’s head – he was adorably short. “Unless we’re having the same one.”

Myungjun giggled and slapped his back before stepping away, his cheeks still tinted bright pink. “I should tell mom, shouldn’t I?”

“She probably already knows,” Dongmin sighed.

“Probably,” Myungjun chortled, but marched to the bedroom door anyway and swung it open as easily as if he’d stepped up to an automatic. “Mom, I have a boyfriend!” He shouted without shame, receiving a dazzlingly bright laugh in return, and Dongmin knew exactly where Myungjun inherited his from.

 

\--

 

“I’ll be honest,” Moonbin said, flipping meat on the grill at the table. “I’ll need a few days to get used to the fact that my two best friends are dating, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy for you both.”

Myungjun grinned as he laid his head on Dongmin’s shoulder, squeezing his arm a little tighter. It had been a week since their confession, but they’d delayed for a bit of time to get used to the idea themselves before letting Moonbin know. Dongmin was fast on his way to getting familiar to the late-night phone calls that always ended with them arguing over who would hang up first – cliché and cheesy actions, Dongmin knew, but the honeymoon phase was still well underway, and he was Myungjun’s first boyfriend. The excitement would linger.

“And when you get a girlfriend – or boyfriend,” Dongmin said, laughing as Moonbin raised an eyebrow. “You have to bring them to barbecue and introduce us too.”

“Obviously,” Moonbin said, dropping strips of kalbi onto Myungjun and Dongmin’s plates. “Eat up, and consider this my blessing for a long, happy relationship.” Moonbin met Dongmin’s eyes, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of an emotion he couldn’t place. But there was a smile there, and Dongmin knew his blessing was genuine.

 _I’m relieved,_ Moonbin’s text came in late that night, making Dongmin squint tiredly at his screen. _I never thought you would ever love someone again. And I’m happy it’s Myungjun. He deserves it just as much as you._

Dongmin smiled at his phone, sending back a gentle ‘thank you’. Moonbin would likely put up with a lot being a third wheel until he found himself a partner, and it would certainly be a little uncomfortable for the time being. But he hoped his friendship and his new relationship would both survive for years to come.

Dongmin’s phone dinged again, and he couldn’t help but smile this time.

_From: My Sunshine: I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about tomorrow. I blame you._

_To: My Sunshine: You’d best try, or you’ll be too tired at the concert tomorrow._

Dongmin looked over towards the two orchestra tickets on his side table. It was supposed to have been a surprise, but he’d forgotten to hide the tickets when Moonbin and Myungjun had come over to study and Moonbin had asked about them, spoiling it.

_From: My Sunshine: You should call and sing to me to sleep <3 <3 <3_

Dongmin didn’t bother replying. He immediately pressed the call button, and Myungjun answered before the end of the first ring.

“Any requests?” Dongmin asked.

 _“Your favourite ballad,”_ Myungjun said with a little giggle.

Myungjun was snoring softly before the end of the second chorus. Dongmin blew him a kiss through the phone and hung up, making himself comfortable. He shouldn’t be too tired for their date tomorrow either. He had to make sure it was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written ever. But I’m really glad I sat down to finish it (I've been writing this since Gangnam Beauty was airing back in 2018 -sweats-). I really, really wanted to start contributing to the ASTRO fanfic archive instead of just ghosting my way through it.  
> Also, I would like to do a sequel with Moonbin where he gets himself a love too...I know I ruined the opportunity Binu, but anyone else you guys might want to see Moonbin with...? uwu


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